The Unknowns
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: It's one thing to fall in battle. It's another to be forgotten.


_A/N_

_This is technically an AU oneshot in that I completely borked the lore of the Tomb of the Unknowns. Like many oneshots, it's a case of me writing it without Internet access, then spellchecking (and other things) with it. So, yes, the lore here is divergent from how the Tomb of the Unknowns actually functioned in canon, but there was no way to rewrite this without losing the overall theme. So, um, yeah._

* * *

**The Unknowns**

Night's falling over Ephyra.

If I was feeling poetic, I could say that night was falling over a lot of stuff. The world. Mankind. Civilization. Anything that conveys the sense that "we're screwed" or "the end of days have come." There's some among the faithful that still call the Locust demons y'know. And I mean, I get it, like, they come crawling up from below the ground, so cue analogy to fire and brimstone and all that. What I want to know that if this is Judgement Day, why's it lasted for fourteen years, and where are the angels? Y'know, those flying twats that are coming to deal judgement to the guilty and innocent alike?

Like, anytime now angels. Wouldn't mind the help.

Wouldn't mind a lot of things to be honest. Wouldn't mind the clock being wound back fifteen years – when my children was alive, and when Maria was with me. Wouldn't mind it being wound back one-hundred years, so we could avert the Pendulum Wars and be in a better position to fight these fuckers. Wouldn't mind even going back four years so we could stop this city from falling in the first place.

I look at Marcus, who's busy conducting an ammo count of what's become Delta Squad. Me, him, some dickweed named Baird, and Augustus "Cole Train" Cole. Yeah, I'm biaised, but what can I say? I'll take "woo" over "life sucks, the world sucks, you all suck" any day of the week. Not that life doesn't suck, not that the world doesn't suck, but I don't need to hear information I already know. Like, I'd rather get information that removes the unknowns of life.

Unknowns. Heh. We're still standing outside the Tomb of the Unknowns. Truth be told, it's not technically a tomb, in that no-one's actually interred here. But it's symbolic – a monument to all soldiers that never returned home from war, who were never confirmed as being KIA. Of course, when I say "war," I mean the Pendulum Wars, because that's really the only war anyone cares about right now besides the one with the Locust. And by "never confirmed as KIA," I mean "we're only 99% sure that they're dead." If they weren't dead then, they're almost certainly dead now, because they'd have to survive E-Day, the Hammer of Dawn Strikes, and over a decade of genocidal fuckwits trying to do genocidal things. Like, doing genocide even better than humans.

Might be nice to get a peace treaty someday. Like, the Locust could say "sure, we eliminated over 90% of the human race, but you did that to yourselves, so you're bad as well." To which I could say something witty before shooting them in the face and-

Oh God I'm getting philosophical. Fuck. City's done that to me. Tomb's done that to me. I even take a few steps up towards it, past the rest of Delta, past the still smouldering corpse of the berseker.

"Dom."

Marcus is talking to me but I'm not listening. I'm just looking up at the tomb, and the inscription made above the entrance – _Dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori._

"Dom."

No idea what it even means.

"Dom!"

"What?" I snap. I look at Marcus.

"Time to move out." He nods towards Baird and Cole. "Natives are getting restless."

"Yeah. Sure. Of course."

I say that, but I remain still.

"Now," Marcus says.

"You think we'll end up like them?" I ask.

God damn it, I'm still being philosophical. Fuck!

"The hell?"

"Like them. Like the Unknowns."

"The hell you on about?"

"Like, if we were to die here and now, but we won the war, would we get a nice shiny tomb?" I ask. "Would there be inscriptions of D. Santiago and M. Fenix, symbolizing that the COG isn't one-hundred percent sure we carked it?"

"Dom, the hell you yammering on about?"

"Or will be unknowns if the Locust win?" I ask. I look back at him. "Like, if they win, and the human race is wiped out, who's going to remember us?"

Marcus doesn't say anything. He just looks at me with a scowl. Or rather, more than a scowl. Marcus hasn't smiled since I busted him from the Slab. Guess hard time does that to a man.

"Like, think about it."

Or maybe it's the war in general. Either way, our resident arsehole comes walking up to us.

"Fascinating conversation," Baird sneers. "No, really – so good to know that we can discuss philosophy and dying in the midst of all the…well, dying."

"You're not dying," I say.

"Yeah, you're right. Plan to keep it that way if we don't mind." He looks at Marcus with a scowl even deeper than his. "If you'd like to lead on, _sergeant_."

"Man you've got a stick up your arse," I say.

He glares at me. "Least it's up my arse and not through my head."

"Yeah, well, we ain't got sticks, we've got these," Marcus says. He lifts up his Lancer to make the point. "But fine. Let's get to cover."

"Yeah sure. Of course. Cover. First rule of a Gear is to stay in cover." Baird storms off, murmuring something about assholes. Or his family. Figure they're one and the same.

"Dom."

Marcus looks at me. He gives me a look that says "get moving, or the stick will go up your arse." And since I don't want a stick up my arse, I get moving along with the rest of Delta.

I spare the tomb one last look though. There's the slight possibility that we'll actually win the war against the Locust. That it, like all of Ephyra, like all of Tyrus, fuck, all of Sera, will be rebuilt. That when it's dedicated to all wars, it'll include this one as well. That it'll list every Gear that we can't be sure is actually dead when fighting against the Locust.

Just hope to God I'm not among them.


End file.
